


Nyctophilia

by Onebrokemum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25293772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onebrokemum/pseuds/Onebrokemum
Summary: Draco, the Prince of Slytherin and Pureblood, found himself in the midst of war fighting an internal conflict. Every prejudice that had been instilled in him was now being doubted, and a new discovery about his heritage only drives him further away from following in his father's footsteps. Can he survive the second wizarding war along side the girl he loathes? Or will he side with the darkness that still resides in him?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. Aboulomania

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there,  
> Welcome to my humble idea that I hope y'all will enjoy. My boyfriend is my editor, so any mistakes not caught are to be blamed on him (ha). He helped me form this story into more than an idea. And I am grateful for his input. I would also love any input from you guys.  
> Thank you in advance!
> 
> Fun fact: I do not owe any rights to the characters and its likeness used in this story. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling and whatever studio has rights over the movies.

In the midst of war, Draco had found himself torn between the boy who wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and the man who could not stomach the prejudices he was instilled with. He had watched his estranged, malevolent aunt torture Hermione from a safe distance. Draco found himself struggle to keep his head up and witness. As much as he had claimed to loathe the girl, he found himself wishing to free her from the pain of the cruciatus curse. He had the silly thought of striking his aunt down and letting Hermione run away. However, he only stood by and stole glances at Hermione in the moments she was free of pain. Later, he could not will himself to identify her and her friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, when asked. He paid tremendously for the refusal in the form of the cruciatus curse when it was discovered that the trio had escaped along with a few others. Draco also found himself increasingly alone with his wavering thoughts. How could he support a half-blooded man blindly who tortured his own followers? Why did Hermione’s wounded face and mutilated arm haunt his thoughts?

Despite the storm swirling within him, the war continued. Each day, Draco battled to stay sane and safe. Yet, his appearance increasingly deteriorated. His cheeks sunk while his pallor became noticeably greyish. The arrogance the man once carried had diminished to nothing. His mother, Narcissa, was not fooled by her son’s feeble attempts at acting normal. She noticed the dark circles and the weariness in his eyes. She had to protect her son before she lost him to this war, but how?

During the first wizarding war, Narcissa had lucked out. Draco had only been a baby when the war had ended. At the start of it, Lucius was cautious of following the Dark Lord. With his marriage still in its infancy, Lucius desired to start a family with Narcissa. All he could talk about in those beginning years was how different he wanted to be from his cold, reserved father. He had planned on teaching their children so many wonderful things, but the Dark Lord quickly rose to power. Lucius felt the amounting pressure to follow with each victory the Voldemort claimed. Soon, Lucius buckled and followed his family’s support of the Dark Lord resulting in a distraught Narcissa miscarrying their unborn child. After seeking comfort and advice from her mother, Narcissa was ridiculed and told to follow her husband and keep her opinions to herself. From that day her mother’s advice haunted Narcissa each day she arose; however, Narcissa skillfully learned how to be her own person while following in her husband’s shadows. The day Draco was born had been glimmer of hope for the woman. She had hoped her son’s birth would divert her husband away from the Dark Lord, but that hope was quickly dashed when her husband left her bedside to follow Voldemort’s orders. After the first war had ended, Narcissa resentfully continued to follow her husband. The once hopeful, family-oriented man had changed to the thing he had once derided: his father, cold and arrogant. Yet, he still had hopes for his family, but they now included the ideals of his father and the Dark Lord. The same ones he had once dismissed. Narcissa had stood by docile as Lucius engrained pure blood prejudices into their sole heir over the subsequent years. The cunning woman knew not to speak against the ideologies especially when she caught wind of the plans to raise the Dark Lord again. She knew she needed to be by her husband’s side if she was to protect her precious Dragon. However, each day, since the war had begun, had felt like defeat for the matriarch. She helplessly watched her son agree to murder his headmaster. She had to think quick to get him out of taking the dark mark initially when it was offered. Narcissa had tirelessly worked to protect her son from the darkness that accompanied the Dark Lord. Now, the woman could no longer stand by as her son withered away.

“Lucius, we have to protect our son,” Narcissa whispered to her husband one day after she noticed how little Draco had eaten all day.

They both sat up in their bed with a fire warming and illuminating their bodies. Despite the warmth, a coldness encircled the couple. The once loving marriage had waned into a comfortable routine. Narcissa sat with a novel in her hands as Lucius studied the orders he had been given earlier from the Dark Lord.

“We are,” Lucius barked above a whisper glaring at his wife.

His wife matched his glare as she scowled at him. Her stance was unwavering, and Lucius began to wane under his wife’s eyes. It was rare for his wife to assert herself, but Lucius could only huff, “if you get him out, don’t include me.”

Narcissa smirked as she rested a hand on his shoulder then nodded before placing a small kiss on his cheek. She closed her book before getting out of the bed. Without another word, she was out of the room leaving Lucius with mixed emotions. He knew Narcissa had a plan already formed. Many doubted his wife’s cunning abilities, but he knew better. She was the savvy business expert behind their family success. Narcissa’s brilliance was in how many underestimated her, but that allowed her to hide in the shadows and pounce when a person least expected it. The following week Lucius continued to follow the Dark Lord as he assumed his wife was initiating her plan. Each day that Draco was present for a meeting with the Dark Lord gave Lucius some solace. Another week passed, and Lucius had allowed his wife’s silly worries to fall into the back of his mind. She hadn’t spoken to him about their son in the past two weeks, and the Dark Lord was increasingly pressuring his followers to be bold in their attacks on Muggles and Mudbloods. On one particular day, Draco joined Lucius during a planned attack on a nearby wizarding village. The attack was going well for the Death Eaters as expected, but Lucius noticed how Draco barely raised his wand while others were manic with their spell work. In fact, Lucius began to wonder if his son was malnourished from his eerie appearance. Yet, the madness surrounding the man quickly overcame his thoughts. Buildings were burning from what he assumed was fiendfyre. Families were frantically running away and trying to reprieve. The cries of the town were deafening. Lucius could only smirk at the work of his fellow Death Eaters as he took in the scene. Then he noticed his son battling against a lone figure in a cloak. Spells were bouncing between each of the wizards in a dazzling fashion that was almost memorizing. Then Draco struck the strange figure down. Lucius wasn’t sure what spell it was due to the distance between him and his son, but pride swell within hm. But in the next moment it was gone. The figure struck him down from where he or she laid before appariting. Tears welled in Lucius eyes before he took off towards his son, but before he could make it to him the witch was back. He noticed that the figure’s face was half hidden and only his or her mouth was visible. The figure smirked before appariting again with Draco’s unconscious body.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The darkness was welcomed to Draco’s weary body, but the light that threatened to awaken him was not. He laid still as possible hoping he would ease back towards the darkness. Then he heard soft, familiar voices that seem so far away yet close whispering to each other.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” One asked worriedly.

“Yes,” the other confirmed as he felt a warm touch gently brush a hair from his face then the voice continued, “I didn’t hit him with anything deadly, but my stunners are quite strong.”

“I understand,” the first voiced responded with a chuckle as the warmth disappeared from his face.

“Thank you again, Hermione,” Draco could sense the relief from the other voice before she continued, “My Dragon may not understand why I took this route protecting him, but I am thankful for you and the Order right now.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione responded, “we should be thanking you for your help thus far. Protecting Draco is the least we can do right now.”

Draco heard what sounded like sniffles before a door opening and shutting from afar. Then he could sense someone close to him. Their warm breath tickling his ear.

“Dragon, please read the letter I left you when you wake,” His mother soothingly whispered then the darkness won.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Draco wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he knew to expect to see those bushy curls he loathed. Surprisingly, his eyes did not meet them when he awoke. He studied his surrounds as he sat up on the cot. It was a small room he was in with the cot he currently sat on, a small dresser and a mirror. There was also a nightstand next to him that had a lamp and a letter sitting on it. A window with drawn back black curtains spilt light into the room.

“It’s daytime,” he thought to himself as he mustered his strength to get off the bed. He glanced back over to the letter on the nightstand, and he noticed the neat calligraphy that could only be his mother’s. Without hesitation, he grabbed the letter and unfolded it. The Malfoy crest greeted him at the top of it before he read:

_My Dearest Dragon,_

_I hope you awaken soon and that this letter finds you unharmed. I’ve had the displeasure of watching you slowly deteriorate during this war. As a wife, I knew it was my duty to support your father. I had to stand strong; however, as your mother, I can no longer stand by and watch you lose yourself. I should explain that I started working with the Order before your father decided that you needed to be a part of the Death Eaters. I know it’ll disappoint you to know that I do not support the Dark Lord’s beliefs and this senseless war, but I do not. The order helped me execute your rescue. Your father wanted no part of it, and I did not want you any wiser to what I was doing. I know how stubborn you can be my Dragon. I refuse to watch you be tormented by my sister any longer. I also refuse to let you take part of the destruction that the Death Eaters love to cause. Stay with Hermione, dear. That wasn’t me asking. That was me telling. You’ll be safe with her. I cannot believe you despised this lovely lady honestly. She volunteered to watch over you without much thought. I could tell that the rest of the Order was shocked. She informed me of the mutual loathe she had for you, but she also spoke highly of you. She told me how you were her main competition for high marks at Hogwarts. She even called you a talented potioneer. Yet, I cannot say the same for you. You’ve always called her incorrigible. Regardless dear, she is the one who will ensure you are safe while I stand in your father’s shadow during this war. Please do not harm her. She has no ill intentions. Trust me, Dragon._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

Draco stared at the letter with mixed emotions. He was relieved to be out of the Malfoy Manor, but it wasn’t by his choice. He had stayed there for as long as he had in order to protect his mother, not for her to protect him. He sighed as he folded then set the letter back down on the nightstand. Then, he crossed the room quietly to its door and cautiously opened it. He studied the open room that was in front of him. There wasn’t much in it, but it was adequate: a couch, a filled bookshelf, a desk that housed a lamp, and a dining table with only two chairs. Then he noticed the kitchen that was nothing to boast about. There he found Hermione standing with her back towards him. She was standing over the stove with a kettle in her hand, wearing a mustard yellow pullover with its sleeves pushed up on each arm. Her curls were pulled into a messy bun on her head.

“I’m glad you’re awake now,” she called to him without turning around. “You’ve been out for about 4 days.”

Her words startled Draco. He was so sure that he had been discreet with his movements, but the Gryffindor was a step ahead. He opened the door more before walking in the living room and then shutting it behind him. He watched Hermione pour a fluid into mugs as he cleared his throat but found his throat still dry and scratchy. She glanced back at him with a sly smile. She quickly turned her face away and went to the refrigerator. Draco watched the witch fix what he believed to be tea for the two of them? She turned towards him with two mugs still steaming in her hands, “Are you thirsty?”

He nodded his head and watched as she walked over to him. She extended a navy mug to him cautiously. Hermione analyzed his reaction closely, but she was relieved when he took the mug into his hand. He sniffed the cup apprehensively before taking a sip. Hermione took a sip from her own cream-colored mug before gesturing to Draco to sit with her on the couch.

“Well,” Hermione studied him with curious eyes.

Draco coughed as he cleared his throat. While the tea had soothed the scratchiness of his throat, he still felt that like something was there. He uncomfortably adjusted himself on the couch before responding, “Thank you for the tea, Granger. It’s perfect.”

The witch half smiled at the compliment before stating, “Your welcome.”

They sat together in silence as both enjoyed their tea. Malfoy savored the warmth and wetness the tea provided. After a few more sips he was able to overcome the dryness and began, “My mother left me a letter, and she asked me to not to harm you. She said that I needed to trust her, and I do.”

Hermione continued to study her childhood bully closely as she retorted, “You mother is a smart woman. She’s been organizing your rescue for weeks.”

“Really,” Draco inhaled taken aback and eyes wide, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

He ran his free hand through whitish blonde hair that was outgrown. Hermione had been studying his face that was covered in stubble since they had sat down. Hermione had always noted that Draco was slender, but he was even smaller now with hallowed cheeks. His pale skin had a greyish tint to it that made him look ill. His grey eyes were worn from the war, and dark circles were prominent. This man looked like a shadow of his former self.

“Well, her letter just made things a lot easier,” she responded cautiously as she took his free hand. She gave him a small reassuring squeeze before Draco pulled his hand away. Hermione felt herself deflate at his reaction to her touch, “I was worried that I would have to battle you when you woke.”

Draco found himself chucking at her response. He knew she was right. If it wasn’t for his mother’s letter, He would’ve blown the door of the room he was in off and stupefied Hermione. He more than likely would’ve mocked her before appariting in front her frozen body. Yet, he didn’t. Instead, he sat with Hermione finishing the tea she had prepared. Why couldn’t he be the same Draco from before the war who would have glared at her and mocked her.

“I’m too tired,” He thought to himself defeatedly, “I’m too tired to hate her.”

He finished his tea while they sat in silence. It irritated a part Draco to admit that for someone who had always annoyed him at Hogwarts, her presence currently wasn’t so bad. He looked over at her and noticed that she was worn from the war too. She too had dark circles under her chocolate eyes, but she otherwise had a healthy glow to her fair skin. She did seem to be smaller than he remembered from school, but he was too. Hermione must’ve felt his eyes on her because she caught his glance, and Draco quickly looked away. She sat up and reached for his cup.

“I’ll take that,” Draco handed the cup over with a nod as thanks and Hermione took off, “You should try to rest a little more, and I’ll make us something to eat.”

In that moment, Draco’s stomach growled loudly. Between the exhaustion and the hunger there was no wonder he didn’t have the energy to be his normal self. Draco verbally thanked Hermione before leaving the living room to lay back on the cot. The lumpy mat was welcoming to his tired mind. He closed his eyes letting the peaceful silence envelop him. His last memories before arriving here were of the destruction and chaos in the wizarding village his mother had let him get accustomed to as a child. Before Draco knew it that familiar darkness sucked him in again, but sleep was welcomed.

“Malfoy,” a voice called to him, “Wake up.”

Draco felt an arm shake him, and he went to swat at it. Laughter filled his ears.

“Alright, Malfoy,” the voice spoke again, “but I’m eating our food up.”

With that, Draco shot up in the cot rubbing his tired eyes. The smell of food overwhelmed his senses and his mouth watered as he imagined what awaited him outside the door. Hermione greeted him with a laugh, “I was able to get us some Thai food. I hope you don’t mind.”

Draco grunted as he got out of the bed. Hermione turned on her heel and he followed her out of the room to the common area that scented with spices and chicken. He eyed the takeout cartons that set on the dining table as they moved closer and closer to them. His stomach was growling loudly and demanding to be fed as they sat down at the table. Hermione wasted no time opening a carton that was filled to the brim with chicken pad thai. Two plates appeared on the table in front of them with a wave of Draco’s hand. Wandless magic was a skill acquired by the Slytherin during his solitude at the Malfoy Manor. His mother had left a book on the skill in his room a few days following his attempted murder of Dumbledore. Draco absorbed the knowledge within the book as paranoia of the trail that could come tortured him. He would practice with minor spells initially then he worked his way to harder ones as his confidence grew. It was almost ironic that at the same time his confidence in the second war was progressively fading.

Hermione verbally thanked Draco for conjuring the plates as she handed him a plastic fork. Then, they both worked silently to fill in the blank canvases before them. Draco had mounds of food greeting his hungry eyes by the time he set a takeout carton down that had been filled with spring rolls. Without a word, they began to feast. Draco would have normally used his manners, but in this moment, he slurped and savored the pad thai noodles. For once he could stomach his surroundings. And for once, he could stomach food. It had been too long since his last proper meal.

Once he had finished the meal with a muffled burp, he patted his belly and cleared his plate away with the swish of his hand. Hermione finished shortly after. The silence that was between them was thick, almost suffocating now, but Draco wasn’t sure how to be sociable with the Gryffindor Princess. He had spent the past six years disliking Hermione and her snooty attitude. He had ridiculed her blood status and her nerdy ways. Yet, Draco envied her cleverness. Despite having the best tutors money could afford and being fluent in four languages, Draco came second to Hermione in each class except Potions. Every class they had together, she had a hand up first ready to answer any and all questions the professor presented. The only outlet Draco had to retaliate and let out the jealousy simmering inside of him was bullying Granger and her precious friends: Weasel and Potter. Every opportunity to bug the girl allowed some of the negativity to come out. Yet, Draco had moments where he felt the pangs of sorrow from his actions especially last year in the midst of their sixth year. He would lay in bed unable to sleep from his own mixed emotions that were threatening to spill over as his mission to murder Dumbledore came closer to fruition. He would not fulfill it thanks to his Head of House, Professor Snape, who without thought accepted the burden of the mission. He had spent that school year close to hatred for what he was supposed to do. In the end, he ultimately failed the Dark Lord. Snape had the glory despite the Death Eaters taking over Hogwarts thanks to Draco. He was punished for his weakness, and his doubts in his father and the Dark Lord’s beliefs were forever seeded.

“You have the cot, Malfoy,” Hermione finally spoke as she whooshed her wand.

The takeout cartons floated and went to the refrigerator that had opened. Her magic filled the air with a low buzz that Draco could sense. It almost tickled the hairs on his skin, and it was comforting, yet alarming. Draco had felt this before during his time at Hogwarts but had never gave it much thought. Well, until tonight that is.

He tried to hide the alarm coursing through him as he shook his head and said, “No, you can have it. I’ll take the couch.”

Before Hermione could protest, Draco added, “I insist besides I don’t want to hear the shit Weasel and Potter would have to say if they found you on the couch and me on the cot.”

“Oh, you’re afraid of them.” Hermione stated simply.

Draco sneered then stated with a hint of aggravation, “Not afraid of those two. Just tired and don’t want to make things harder than they have to be. I’m guessing I’m stuck here with you until whatever happens. I may not care for you or trust you Granger, but I’m not going to waste my energy being my mean to you.”

Draco noted the shift in Hermione’s demeanor as he finished his statement. She cleared her face of any emotion before responding, “At least, we both agree on not making things any harder between us.”

With that, she stood up and left him sitting at the table. She crossed the room and slammed the door shut without another word spoken. Draco slumped in the chair as realization washed over him; he was stuck in this house with Hermione Granger for an unforeseeable amount of time. As much as he didn’t want to fight with her, he knew it was coming. How were two enemies supposed to respectfully share a space?


	2. Revelare

The room was dark with only the sliver of moon light illuminating the spot that Draco sat bounded magically in a chair. Panic was gradually rising within him as he caught the red, cat-like pupils analyzing him from a distance in the shadows.

“You thought you could escape me?” Lord Voldemort mocked as he stepped out of the shadows and closer to his captive, “You thought you could live happily ever after with that filthy Mudblood?”

A hint of disgust was evident as he spat out the last word. Despite being skeletally thin and long, Draco knew he was no match for the Dark Lord. His thin hand and unnaturally long fingers were gripping a wand tightly. The sneer was transforming into an eerie smile.

“You disgust me,” the Dark Lord spoke frankly, “but I know you will do better.”

He turned around facing away from Draco as he finished his thought, but Draco twisted in pain as the man turned back around with the wand pointed firmly. Somehow a blood curdling scream escaped Draco’s lips despite being gagged. Then, the shakes came.

“Draco, wake up!” a firm voice yelled, “Wake up!”

The Slytherin Prince shot up rubbing the sweat off his brow as he thanked the Gods that it had all been a dream. He rubbed his eyes next trying to remove all traces of sleep from them before examining his surroundings. To his surprise, he met the warm gaze of his mother. She wore a panicked expression all over her face as she stared back at him. Her caerulean eyes were welled up he noted. Yet, his mother still had an air of elegance. Her platinum locks were pulled back into a low bun, and her black robes were free of any signs of wrinkles. The woman allowed a smile to form on her face as she went closer to her son.

“Are you okay, Dragon?” she asked worriedly cupping his face gently.

“I’m fine, mother,” Draco assured as he quickly embraced her waist, “Why are you here?”

“I’ve missed you too, son,” Narcissa scoffed as she stood back up and smoothed out any folds that had form from the hug, “but I must be quick. I’ve brought you a few books from the Malfoy Library. Please read them son.”

She reached inside her robes to a pocket that was neatly hidden, and she pulled out two worn books. She handed both to her son who accepted them without fuss. He examined each book as his mother continued, “These are important, Dragon.”

Draco glanced back at his mother, “but why? I know our family history already.”

“Do you?” She deadpanned before bending back down to her son’s level and whispering to him, “There are some things that your father wished to have hidden about your ancestry. It is not my place to force you to see my side of this pointless war, but I can educate you. You will be able to decide which side you agree with fairly.”

Draco took in his mother’s face. The sincerity and passion of what she spoke was all there. Maybe he could read the books, and maybe they would help ease the turmoil within him.

He finally spoke, “Mother, I’ve missed you.”

“I know my Dragon,” she murmured softly, “but now I have to go.”

Mother and son hugged tightly once again. It had been only a few weeks since he had last saw his mother, but her presence was bringing him much needed peace. Living with Hermione had not been easy for either. The awkwardness of the first day quickly passed after he had upset the Gryffindor Princess. Yet, both had adjusted to the new norm. In the mornings, Draco would wake up and run outside within the ward’s diameter. It was plenty of time for Hermione to shower and get dressed. By the time Draco was sweaty and tired, Hermione would be sitting on the couch reading whatever novel interested her that day. Draco would say morning and quickly head to the shower. The roommates would spend the rest of the day distant from each other and absorbed in their own world. Hermione would occasionally remind Draco when a meal was available, but for the most part, the bit of warmth that she had shown him the first day was gone. Draco was enjoying each second of the warmth of his mother’s embrace, but she soon pulled away with a kiss on her son’s head.

“I love you, mother,” Draco managed to say trying to hide any ounce of sadness from showing.

“I love you too,” She responded as she stepped back with a sad smile.

They nodded to each other. Then, Narcissa turned on her heels and exited the house. The sadness that Draco had been trying to hide now flooded the young man. He was alone again with the darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Malfoy’s Lineage was no mystery to many. They were a Pureblood family that was apart of the Sacred Twenty-Eight which was a prestige in itself to pureblood purist. The family had survived many wars thanks to their cunning abilities, and they had vast wealth that so many envied. Most importantly, the family had connections in and out of the wizarding world. The fruit of those connections were evident in the many estates and jewels that the family owned. So, how could the Malfoy Ancestry book reveal something new? Draco pondered this question as he opened the weathered book carefully, and he began to probe it. The first few pages of the novel had offered him nothing new with its tail of an ancestor who had helped William the Conquer secure England. Each page that Draco read only frustrated the young man and planted seeds of doubts within his already clouded mind.

“I’m doing this for my mother,” Draco repeated to himself with each turn of a page.

Finally, he stumbled across something towards the end of the book. He re-read the page taken aback before thrusting the book onto the coffee table in from of him. Hermione glanced over to him as she lowered her own novel.

“What’s wrong?” She asked curious.

It almost felt wrong for her to be asking considering the silence that always sat between the two and the glares she would throw his way occasionally.

“I’m part Veela,” Draco uttered in disbelief.

“What?” Hermione questioned unsure.

“My grandmother was a Veela,” Draco affirmed, “My prejudiced grandfather married a Veela.”

An eerie laugh escaped Draco’s lips that made Hermione grimaced. She uncomfortably adjusted herself on the couch as she let the new knowledge replay in her head over and over. The unique whitish blonde hair and striking features all made sense suddenly to both. Draco picked the book back up and flipped frantically to the page that held this life changing information on it. A picture of a petite, slender woman with ethereal white-blonde hair that fell to her hips stared back at him. She was wearing a white gown that appeared to be made from satin that flowed to the ground she was standing on. Her sapphire eyes were piercing despite the warm smile she held. She stood next to Abraxas Malfoy with their arms hooked. He was more reserve in his demeanor, yet the animated picture allowed whomever glancing at it a chance to see the cold man smile warmly at his bride. He easily towered her in his wedding robes. His blonde hair was slicked back. The couple stood in front of a wedding arch adorned with blooming roses and greenery. The bride held a small bouquet in her free hand. Hermione glanced over to the picture that Draco was mesmerized by.

“Stella Dubois-Malfoy,” Hermione noted aloud.

Draco shut the book with a snap and mumbled, “My father lost her when he was six. She died during childbirth, and the baby was lost too. Father told me that Grandfather was never the same after that.”

“He had lost his mate,” Hermione stated plainly with a shrug before returning to her own book.

In that moment, Draco was thankful for the unfortunate Triwizard Tournament of their 4th year. Besides the excitement of the tournament itself, many of the students were in awe of some of the ladies of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic. Their own champion, Fleur Delacour, was a quarter Veela, and it was blatantly obvious from her silvery-blonde hair to the draw she had on most of the male population at Hogwarts. Well, except Draco. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized that he was immune to her and that’s why he wasn’t flaunting like the other guys over her. He remembered how he had found himself in the library with a few of his friends researching Veelas. There was admittingly little known about the creatures up until that year, and now everyone was trying to learn more. Draco compared the knowledge he had learn then to his own self. He cursed himself quietly for not seeing the signs: his pale skin that had always seem to shine bright, his white-blonde hair, his charm, and his breathtaking features as other called them. He felt thick in that moment, but Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you think you have any abilities?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly with a shrug, “but I wouldn’t have known if my mother had not given me this book. I just thought I was charming and attractive, and that’s why women came easy.”

Hermione’s face scrunched up in disgust, “Calm down, Malfoy. You aren’t that charming.”

She rolled her eyes as she got up from the couch, and Draco seized the opportunity to stretch his legs on the couch.

“Ass,” Hermione huffed as she noticed what Draco did.

Draco sneered as he watched the Gryffindor place the book she had been reading into the bookshelf. He looked away without thinking much else and returned to the picture of grandparents. The young Abraxas was quite a contrast from the older version of him. Draco could see the portrait of his grandfather with white-grey hair hanging in the hallway of the Malfoy Manor. His stern, cold eyes watched his descendants and their guest without much to say. Occasionally, the patriarch would remind the family of his presence, but those moments were rare. With Stella dying young, Draco had only seen her silhouette portrait in some of the family books he had been allowed to pry into.

“According to this book, you not only have a mate,” Hermione spoke as she came back to the couch with a new book in hand, “but you can die from rejection from her or if you haven’t found her when you’re 25.”

“Damn,” Draco murmured mostly to himself, “No pressure there.”

Hermione laughed at his response as she pushed his feet aside for her to sit.

“You can at least say ‘excuse me” Draco scorned as he moved his feet away from her touch.

“You could’ve not put your feet where I was sitting,” She snapped clearly irritated as she sat down in the now empty portion of the couch.

Draco sat up straight as he set the book in his hand down. He bent forward as he closed his eyes and ran his hands through his blonde locks. Hermione watched her reluctant companion from side way glances before opening the book she had brought with her again. They both sat in silence for a moment trying to calm down. The past few weeks had been this way for the two. They would have their moments where both thought that things wouldn’t be so bad, but those would be dashed away by their little tiffs. No matter what it was about, the two always seemed to find away to quickly turn a discussion into a disagreement. Draco felt his irritation slowly easing away as he tried to focus on not arguing with the Gryffindor Princess.

“It’s pointless,” He reminded himself as he took a deep breath, holding it in and letting it go after a few seconds.

Draco kept doing his breathing exercises until he felt some resemblance of peace within him, “It’s pointless to fight with Granger. She may be fucking irritating, but she’s not worth fighting with right now.”

Hermione interrupted his thoughts with the question, “Do you think Pansy is your soulmate?”

Draco rolled his eyes instinctively at her as he looked over to Hermione and responded, “why? Jealous that it’s not you?”

“Gross, Malfoy,” She glared as the confidence and arrogance oozing from him seemed to overwhelm her senses.

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked away from him as he began to smirk. A smile was threatening to form on her face, and Hermione was instantly disturbed.

“No,” She told herself as she bit her lip instead to stop the smile, “This ass doesn’t deserve any of that kind of attention.”

“If it was Pansy,” Draco spoke once he was satisfied with her reaction, “It would’ve been clear by now.”

He shrugged at his last statement before continuing, “Besides I can barely tolerate her as a girlfriend. She’s a fiercely loyal friend, but overbearing girlfriend.”

“Is that why you two stopped dating?” Hermione asked barely audible.

Draco noted the apprehension in her words before deciding to respond, “Part of it. That and it didn’t feel right. The entire time.”

Hermione eased up visibly and gave Draco a small nod before diving back into her novel, but he couldn’t stand the silence and asked, “What about you and Weasel?”

“Huh?”

Draco deadpanned, “Are you and Weasel together or not?”

Hermione laughed as she shook her head, “No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s like a brother,” She answered truthfully before adding, “I mean we had kissed, but like you said It didn’t feel right.”

With that last statement, both became absorb in the novels they had chosen. Draco had decided that he needed to read the next novel his mother had given him: the journal of Stella Dubois-Malfoy. He had found the journal quite boring initially. Yet, within a few pages, he found himself intrigued by the life of the woman he had never knew. She had discovered her Veela Heritage by chance when she met Abraxas at Hogwarts. They were both Slytherins with a competitive streak with each other. Her words allowed Draco to picture his grandfather through her eyes, and he found himself in awe of the man just as his grandmother was at that time. Abraxas had been cunning, intellectual, and driven, but Stella also described the man as arrogant and the biggest git on the planet. Halfway through the journal, her tune changed of Abraxas after she had been partnered with him on their Prefects’ duties.

_1950 December 17_

_I remember a time when I despised Abraxas. I still wish I despised him sometimes. Tonight, after our patrol, I caught him with Eudora Abbot in a classroom. I knew they were close friends, but I didn’t know that they were that close. When I caught them, all I wanted was to hex them. At least stun them and leave. Let someone else catch them. Maybe deduct points from them, but no. I stood there and burst into tears. I was so angry. I ended up slamming the door on them as Abraxas tried to talk to me after they had noticed me. But I ran. I found another room and ending up sobbing in there. The scariest part was that I grew talons. I was terrified of myself honestly, and I knew I couldn’t go to the Madam Hoppy about this. Talons growing out of my skin while upset isn’t something that a healer can exactly heal. but I did write to my grandmother. She has always told me to tell her of any unnatural thing that may occur to me at school. And this is definitely unnatural. Abraxas tried to talk to me when I finally returned, but I didn’t want to hear him. Now I await answers from my grandmother. I trust that she will have the answers._

_1950 December 21_

_Grandmother wrote to me today, and oh my. I did not expect her to tell me that I was half-Veela! Grandmother Luella is a Veela, and my mother, Clara, is one too. Apparently, my mother did not want to reveal my heritage after she had married my father, Louis. She had hoped I would not inherit the Veela gene, but Grandmother told me that Veela genes are quite prominent. They can be dominant from many generations despite marrying non-Veelas. She also told me that the person who caused my talons to grow must be my mate. Talons only grow when upset and trying to protect what is ours. That bit of information upset me frankly. Abraxas Malfoy most likely is my mate, and I just caught him days ago with Eudora Abbot snogging senselessly. I cannot dwell on it to long or the talons grow._

_He tried to talk to me today while we were patrolling, and I couldn’t handle him apologizing over and over. I told him that I didn’t care who he kissed, and he could leave me alone. That didn’t deter him at all. He kept trying to talk to me and to get me to open up to him. He even tried holding my hand when we were nearly done with our route. The slap I gave him surely stopped that. I’m not sure how long I can hold_ _out honestly, but I do know that I wished he wasn’t the person I was supposed to be with. He hurt me. He snogged another girl after us getting to know each other over the past few months. He had kissed me on his birthday only a month ago after we had looked at the stars together. Now, he expects me to not be hurt. We were talking of going on dates and figuring out a future together just a few days ago before I caught him. In fact, the next trip to Hogsmeade we were supposed to spend together. Now, I don’t want to be around him. I just want to forget him and all the sweet nothings he has spoken to me since we’ve returned to Hogwarts._

Draco dog eared then closed the journal. He set it on the coffee table in front of him as he mulled over the entries he had just written. It was clear to him that Pansy was not his soulmate. He couldn’t recall a time that he had grew insanely jealous over her or any girl that his caught his eye honestly since he started Hogwarts. Maybe he didn’t have the active Veela gene he thought to himself as he got off the couch. He grabbed the two books after deciding he had, had enough reading for the day and placed them in the bookshelf. Granger perked an eyebrow up when he had passed, but she waited until he was done placing the books to ask, “Did you find anything relating to your Veela heritage?”

“I can grow talons to protect my mate,” He stated matter-of-factly.

Hermione coughed choking on her spit as her eyes grew big, “Wait, what?”

“In my grandmother’s defense, she was upset that she had caught my grandfather snogging another girl in their 6th year,” He responded loudly as he went into the kitchen

Hermione sat up on the couch as she closed her book, “My books says nothing about that, but it did say that your mate can cause possessiveness and extreme jealous. Nothing remotely close to talons.”

Draco shrugged as he got himself a glass from a cupboard, “I doubt that whomever wrote that wanted the whole world to know that Veelas grew talons then. The person could’ve been a Veela themselves or married to one.”

Hermione watched him as he filled the glass with water from the tap, “There’s no telling why, but still. That’s a little scary.”

Draco took a sip and took a small moment to revel in the coolness of the water before replying, “Don’t have to worry about that with me at least. I’ll just continue to bug you instead.”

Hermione eyes narrowed at him as he finished his words, and she promptly turned around with an eye roll. He shrugged as he chugged the rest of the water as silence saturated the room. Besides exercising to pass time, Draco had found himself picking healthier options for meals and beverages. His body in return thanked him by slowly gaining muscle over the past few weeks since he arrived at the cabin. He had noticed that his skin was no longer greyish. Instead his pallor was healthy and pale like before. He had energy to push through the day, and he had noticed Hermione stealing glances at him when he would pull his shirt off after a jog. The first time he had thought nothing of it until he went into the bathroom and noticed that his muscles were becoming defined again. Since then, he had found ways to flirt with Granger while annoying her. He had considered it harmless since they were both stuck together in a cabin, and they had agreed to be civil with each other. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t find some enjoyment in the situation they were both reluctantly stuck in.

“Do you think you have a mate?” She questioned shattering the silence.

“Nope,” Draco answer nonchalant as he placed his glass down onto the counter.

“Why?” Hermione asked curiously trying to avoid any other emotion.

“Well,” Draco sighed as he reflected on his earlier thoughts of the same subject matter, “No girl at Hogwarts as made me feel possessive or jealous to be frank. Pansy was my longest girlfriend while there, and I couldn’t wait to be away from her. Daphne Greengrass did nothing for me, and her sister Astoria did nothing as well.”

Hermione scrunched up her face disturbed at the realization that Draco had dated sisters, and he noticed before clarifying, “My father wanted a union between me and one of the Greengrass girls, but it was a mutual no from us three. Daphne is dating Theo Nott now and not sure about Astoria.”

Hermione nodded showing that she understood as he finished his clarification. Hermione felt herself relax a bit, and she felt a pang of guilt for judging him so quickly. Hermione had always found herself needing clarification when it came to Pureblood customs. Only guide to them had been the Weasleys, and they had admittedly didn’t follow all the customs considering their status as blood traitors. Hermione was still thankful that the family that had practically adopted her after her first year at Hogwarts. They had educated her on many Pureblood and wizarding traditions she had missed due to being muggle born. She was also thankful that they hadn’t ridiculed her for her blood status. Many of the Purebloods she had come across since she had started Hogwarts had attempted to make her feel inferior, but Hermione’s quick wit and studious habits had allowed her to trump them at least academically. A thought popped into Hermione’s head before she could stop herself, she blurted, “What if your mate is a Muggleborn?”

The silence was deafening, and Hermione had immediately regretted what she had asked. She quickly glanced over at Malfoy who had a nasty sneer on his face as he glared at the witch in front of him. His hand was clutching his empty glass, and he spat out, “Just say if it was you, Granger.”

She gasped taken aback, but she tried to shake it off as she matched his glare trying to fake some sort of confidence, “What if your mate is a nasty Mudblood like me, Malfoy.”

She had risen with those words. The animosity was thick in the air as they both held their glares at each other. Draco could feel the anger overwhelming him as he tried to hold his tongue.

“Don’t let her get to you,” He repeated to himself, but the anger was still growing.

Hermione sneered as she overlooked his silence, “What if it is me?”

Draco’s hand finally closed around the glass shattering it into fragments, but he couldn’t feel the stings of pain. All he saw was red as he held his menacing glare at Granger. He finally stated maliciously, “Then I’ll die.”

Hermione finally let her gaze goes elsewhere before glancing back at him and noticing the blood on the counter.

“Shit, Malfoy,” She sighed then gasped.

Draco looked down at his hands and went wide eye as he noticed what she saw: talons.


	3. Libidine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this update is coming later than the previous chapter. I had, had this written, and I chose to edit and revise it to death. Shout out to my partner for being my wonderful beta (and editor/co-author). Any errors on this chapter are mine from the last revision. Thank you so much reading, and please stay tuned for the notes at the end.

The days that had followed the incident were long, silent, and awkward. Draco nor Hermione dared to confront the other. How would they, they had both considered to themselves. Neither had meant to get so heated with the other. Yet, the heat was something familiar between them, and the calm was foreign. Yet, both knew deep down that they had to work on letting the calm be a new normal. That was the only way that this arrangement would work. Right?

Subconsciously in agreement, they avoided each other and kept only to nodding when communication wasn’t deemed absolute necessary. With the lack of interaction within the cabin, Hermione decidedly busied herself with helping The Order even more. She had insisted on attending the meetings when before she was fine with getting the keynotes via an owl from whomever. The hour or so she was away at meetings allowed Draco to relax in the cabin, or he would take another jog to calm his mind. Mostly, he would ease his turbulent mind in the shower. He would let the water drown out the chaos consuming his perception and let the water drench his body with its soothing warmth. He never dared to be even semi-nude when Hermione arrived. Rather, he opted to be fully dressed in a shirt and shorts reading another passage from his Grandmother Stella’s journal on the couch when she would floo in from the meeting.

Two weeks had slowly crept by since the incident. Hermione was regularly meeting with the Order at least twice a week. One evening she had come home from an Order meeting visibly exhausted. The green, familiar flames lit up within the fireplace alerting Draco of her arrival. He only looked over the pages of the journal eying her as she stepped through the fireplace. She was covered in soot from head to toe. He watched her dust the particles off herself before she sighed heavily and stepped further into the room.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced without a look over to him.

Draco watched Hermione walk to her room and shut the door behind her without another word. All he could do was shrug as he dived back into the book. This new dynamic between them didn’t seem to sit right with him, yet he didn’t protest. He didn’t want to push her buttons furthers. Or worse, he didn’t want her to push his and provoke the damn talons.

Draco sighed mostly to himself as he focused back onto the journal. This particular entry had been quite uneventful. In fact, the Slytherin found himself yawning as he tried to finish the passage. However, his eyes grew heavy and darkness gradually was travelling over him. Only a moment later, he gave in to the darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hermione was fatigued as she sat upon the cot. While the meeting had been a thrilling one, it had also been longer than expected. Normally after a meeting, the Gryffindor would be mentally going through the high points of the meeting in her mind. She would calculate a plan to present to her best friends, Ron and Harry. Tonight, however, her eyes were heavy with sleep. She felt her body slowly descending onto the cot with a thud. Maybe a quick nap wouldn’t be so bad she had thought to herself as she finally adjusted her body to a more comfortable position. Only a few moments later, she let her heavy eyelids close.

Or not.

Hermione opened her eyes and sighed heavily. A wave of betrayal dazed her as Draco started to invade her mind. She sat up on the cot and eyed the door longingly trying to will the handsome Slytherin to at least knock on the door. She could only shake her head as she removed her robes and discarded them in a corner with a toss. She frankly felt silly for even daring to lust after her bully. With another sigh, she removed her jeans and t-shirt. The only thing that was left on her fair skin was the black lace bra and panty set that hugged her womanly assets. Despite it being a warm night outside, the air in the cabin was cool and it sent chills down Hermione’s back. She decidedly went to her trunk and grabbed a big t-shirt to put on, but a wolf whistle alerted her of another person in her presence. Her face reddened as she turned around to see Draco standing in the doorway with his signature smirk on his face.

“Malfoy,” His presence had startled her as she stood back up, holding the shirt she had absentmindedly grabbed against her body trying to hide it beneath the fabric.

“Granger,” He drawled as he stepped closer to the Gryffindor.

His sex appeal was overbearing as he slowly stepped forward to her. Hermione stayed absolutely still until he was barely inches from her. He was surveying her with hungry eyes. The shirt that Hermione thought she had had a firm grip on slowly dropped from her hand. She was captivated and began to examine his sculpted face. In return, he studied her face as he cupped it gently with a hand. She was anticipating his next moved as her infamous Gryffindor courage was building up inside her. He allowed his thumb to rest on her jawline and stroked it lightly. Hermione felt compelled as her arms went around his waist. Grey stormy eyes locked with her honey orbs, and the tension between them was simmering.

“May I kiss you, Granger?” He gazed at her full lips then let his eyes ascend back up to hers.

Hermione could only nod as her body began to tremble full of eagerness. They were both hesitant as they leaned towards the other, but their lips met in a delicate kiss. In that moment, electricity went through both and they were flooded with heated desire. Draco licked his bottom lip before pressing his soft lips against the voluptuous and eager lips of Hermione. She pushed her body against his as the kiss deepened, and Draco tugged on her bottom lip desperately seeking entrance. She relented and their tongues seemingly battled for dominance before a dance formed between them. Draco was leading, and he dropped his hands from her face to wrap them around her small waist. Slowly yet urgently, he began to push her back towards the cot.

“D-Draco,” she mouthed breathless between kisses.

“Shh, Granger,” he responded as he laid her down onto the cot with a soft thud.

His lips left hers and began to trail down. First, he speckled kisses over her jawline then to her neck. He found her sensitive pulse spot and gently suckled onto it. Hermione moaned in response as she allowed her hands to explore Draco. He continued to peppered kisses from her neck down to her sternum until he was in the midst of her breast that seemed to be begging him to free them from their black lace cage. He tugged the black straps of the bra down as he laid kisses on the top of the mounds. Hermione gasped into a pleasure filled smile, and she found the nerve to grasp at his shirt trying to pull it off of him. The Slytherin Prince chuckled as he stopped kissing upon her to oblige to her command. With the second attempt his shirt was off, and Hermione took in the sight. The years of Quidditch had paid off well for him. They had allowed Draco to remain slender, yet his muscles were well defined. Hermione was meticulous in her examining of him until she landed upon the Dark Mark on his forearm. She winced at the sight. Noticing her reaction, Draco sat up and covered the mark with his free hand. Hermione frowned and she too sat up on the cot.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she leaned closer to him.

She clasped her hand on his arm and pulled it away from the forearm with a gentle nudge, revealing the mark that was below. It was dark and menacing looking, but the power it had just had on her had faded. She stroked the mark softly, and the tension that had stiffen Draco began to dissipate. Visibly relaxed, the Slytherin glanced over to Hermione whose eyes stayed on the mark she was stroking. He used a free hand to cup her face guiding her attention back to his face, and they both smirked warmly at each other.

“You’re so perfect,” Draco stated as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

The Gryffindor smiled shyly and looked away. He guided her eyes back to his and he reaffirmed, “You are perfect, Hermione. You’re so brilliant and sexy.”

She chuckled, but Draco crashed his lips on to hers. The kiss was started off gentle, but its intensity quickens to a deep need to be one with their mouths. Their tongues thrashed in each other mouths as what was left of their clothes came off with each toss. Hermione was naked and vulnerable before Draco who intensely examined his witch with lustful eyes before pushing her down back onto the cot. Her breath hitched as he trailed kisses down her chest and further down her abdomen. He licked the v of her hips, and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Hermione was squirming as he scratched her thighs.

“You’re mine,” He growled as he parted her legs revealing her wet, warm slit.

Not that she had been anticipating anything sexual, but the witch kept herself neatly groomed out of habit. Draco wasted no time licking her soft, pink folds. The warm wetness tasted delicious to him almost like a juice that he couldn’t get enough of. He allowed his tongue to lap up the fluid eliciting many moans of pleasure from Hermione with an arching back. She grasped at his blonde locks and gripped them tight as she felt another wave of pleasure crash over her. She was practically smothering him with her pretty cunt as Draco stuck his tongue into her tight hole. His finger found her bundle of nerves, and he stroked circles into it. Hermione was gasping for air as her body tensed up.

“D-Draco,” she gasped as her back arched even more.

He growled in response before plunging a finger into her tight cunt. His strokes were desperate and rough, but the gripping of her walls around his appendage led him to know he was doing something right. The constant waves of pleasure were pushing over the edge. The build up inside of her was bubbling and threatening to spill over. The moans were loud and primal as Draco added another finger into her tight, pink hole. He suckled on her bundle of nerves, and Hermione cried out from pleasure as the orgasm coursed through her body and crashed on her like a tidal wave. Draco pumped her through it allowing her walls to pulse around his fingers before he extracted them. He placed them in his mouth and enjoyed the taste of her delectable wetness. Hermione was breathless and her face was tinged pink as she looked up at the handsome Slytherin through dreamy eyes.

He noticed her looking his way and growled “mine” as he took the fingers out of his mouth then crashed his lips onto hers. Hermione could feel his member prodding her sensitive slit. A devilish smirk adorns her face between kisses as she grasped his manhood in her hand. Draco’s eye widen as pleasure consumes him. She stroked his member with a firm grasp.

During their time at Hogwarts, there had been rumors of the kind of lover Draco was. Hermione had tried to not pay them much attention, but she couldn’t believe how true they were. Draco had been praised on his tongue work, and the girls of Hogwarts always boasted about the size of his manhood. He was above average, and Hermione guesstimated was probably 9 inches with a hearty girth. A brief terrifying thought of how he would fit into her flashed in Hermione’s mind before she was distracted by him gently tugging at her perky nipples between pinched fingers. His cock was stiff and crying to enter her as she continued to pump it with eagerness. Their collective moans were loud as she guided it to the entrance of her tight hole. Draco abruptly stopped kissing the witch and looked at her with serious eyes.

“Are you sure?” He barely whispered, but she smiled at him.

“I’m yours,” She stated as she grabbed his hips and used them to drive his manhood into her.

The tight warmth and wetness sent tingles of pleasures through the Slytherin. It had felt like his body had been shocked by electricity, and he had to steady himself before he could rhythmically start thrusting into her. Sex with her was different he couldn’t help but to notice. The accumulation was intense and electrifying. Each stroke was threatening to send the other over the edge. Their bodies would complement each other in ways he had never experienced before. She wrapped her legs around his waist helping him drive his cock deeper into her cunt, and Draco found himself having to hold back from exploding into his witch.

“F-fuck!” he growled then plunged his lips onto hers for a deep kiss.

There was static in the air as his strokes intensified. Each stroke audibly clapped, and their primal moans were disturbingly growing louder and louder. He could feel her walls clenching as her back arched and he knew she was close.

“Cum for me, love,” he whispered into her ears before he took her lobe into his mouth.

That was enough for Hermione to cry out again in pleasure. Her body tensed up along with her walls that seemed to be trying to milk him. Draco tried to continue to hold back, but it was all too much. He let go, and his warm spunk erupted deep into her hole. His grunts of satisfaction were soothing to Hermione’s ears as her walls milked his cock of all he could give her. She relaxed onto the cot exhausted from both orgasms and dreamingly looked at the Slytherin who still had his member inside of her. She smiled as she reached for her wand but felt Draco’s hand stop her.

He shook his hand then smiled, “I thought we agreed to a child, love.”

Hermione jolted up from the cot and stared around the room. She felt herself and found that she was still dressed in her robes, but when she felt her face, she was covered in sweat. The dream had felt so real she thought to herself as she got out of bed and tried to will the dream away. Unfortunately, the wetness that saturated her panties was an embarrassingly constant reminder that she had just had a sex dream starring Draco Malfoy, her childhood bully. She went to her trunk and grabbed the first pair of clean undies she encountered then she crossed the room to the door. She quietly opened it and spotted Draco laying on the couch asleep with his grandmother’s journal on his chest. With all the Gryffindor bravery she could muster, she crept through the living room to the bathroom as soundlessly as she could.

Draco’s eyes had popped opened, and he sat up a little to take in his surroundings. He had just had the most intense sex dream of his life, but disgust washed over him. It had starred Granger. The same woman who would irk him every encounter they seemed to have. The bile in his throat was pungent, but he quickly laid back as he heard the door to Hermione’s room opened. He refused to glance at her after the dream he just had. He stilled as he heard her walk to the bathroom and once the door was shut and locked audibly, he relaxed and moved his grandmother’s journal off his chest onto the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair trying to force the knowledge of the dream away into a chest in his mind. He wanted it locked away, but he kept picturing his cock inside the Gryffindor. Soon his own manhood was prodding his shorts with a bulge. He huffed as he sat up. The light of the bathroom was only a tiny sliver on the floor, but the early morning light was starting to spill into the cabin. He went to his trunk, and he grabbed a pair of running shoes. He laced them up before pulling down his t-shirt.

“If jogging can quiet the thoughts of the war, it should quiet my thoughts of Granger,” He considered as he treaded to the door.

Without looking back, he exited the house and immediately took off jogging. The small front porch and its steps didn’t deter his strides as he found a comfortable pace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Another week passed, but to the annoyance of both roommates, the not so known shared sex dreams persisted. A new routine emerged: Draco arose earlier and jogged longer periods of time, and Hermione would take a cool rinse before taking an actual shower. They still only spoke when they needed to, yet an awkwardness saturated the air between them. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the why. In fact, both tried to stay act as nonchalant as possible around the other. Hermione threw herself even more deeply into research for The Order. Draco pushed himself while training. It was the only thing that had help to ease his chaotic mind.

Draco was performing sit ups one evening when Hermione approached him apprehensively. She was biting her lower lip before she stated, “Harry and Ron will be coming over tonight.”

This halted Draco mid sit up. He narrowed his eyes at her before getting off the floor. He straightened himself up allowing his full height to tower her in a mocking way. In that moment, Hermione gulped unsure of how he was about to react. All of her Gryffindor bravery had faded under Draco’s gaze.

“Hopefully Potter and Weasel can be civil like you, Granger” He spat out with a sneer before pushing past her to the bathroom.

Hermione stood there, and a small part of her arm was glistening with his sweat. She listened to the shower spring to life, and unholy thoughts of a naked Malfoy filled her head. Her face reddened as she dashed to her room praying to the Gods that tonight would go well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At approximately 7:30 pm, the fireplace lit up in glorious green flames alerting Hermione that her two best friends were arriving. Draco had chosen to hide inside Hermione room with his grandmother’s journal a little bit before, and he had sullenly levitated his trunk inside the room at the request of the Gryffindor. He had only given Hermione enough time to pull on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain red v neck shirt before he had bombarded into the room. With the last few moments in the room, Hermione gathered her chestnut colored curls into a messy bun and secured it with a hair tie.

Hermione had the biggest smile plastered on her face as her best friends stepped into the room. They were brushing soot off their robes with the biggest, toothy grins as they walked over to her.

“Mione,” Ron greeted as he beat Harry to her.

“Ronald,” she smiled.

He pulled Hermione into a tight embrace before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Harry rolled his eyes at the brazen display of affection from the red head but smiled warmly at Hermione as he had his chance to hug her.

“Mione,” He smiled as he pulled away from her.

“Harry,” she responded as she gestured for her friends to sit, “Please sit.”

Hermione beamed at her best friends as they took a seat on the couch then she stated, “I hope you guys don’t mind tea and sandwiches.”

Ron perked up visibly as he sat on the couch. Harry rolled his eyes at his gluttonous friend. With a small chuckle, Hermione grasped her wand then flicked it to levitate the food items and tea. Ron was quick to stuff a sandwich in his mouth, while Harry poured himself a cup of tea. The ‘golden’ trio instinctively settled into their norm style of conversation. Harry spoke of the problems they were facing, and he revealed his latest scar burning stories. Hermione gave input on the latest research she had completed, and she detailed what the horcruxes could be. Ron continued to stuff his mouth until he was satiated, then he gave his contribution to the plan. While Hermione found herself annoyed with Ron’s antics, she couldn’t help but to be thankful to be with her friends in this way again. The meeting was moving along effectively, and Ron suggested that they plan to destroy the horcruxes immediately.

“We’ve already missed the holidays,” he whined as he poured himself a second cup of tea.

It was a fact that gave Hermione a pang of sadness. She had spent the holidays at Godric’s Hollow with Harry, and they had narrowly escaped Voldemort’s clutches. Next, they had been ambushed at the Lovegood’s residence, but thankfully had once again escaped. The only glimmer of hope was that Ron had destroyed a horcrux: a locket. Sadly, this had only happened because he was in a blind fit of jealousy over how close Harry and Hermione had become since the war began. Hemione preferred not to recall the moment that Ron had stormed out of a similar cabin to the one she was now sharing with Draco. Her and Harry had been brainstorming ideas together, and the cabin was quite chilly. Looking back, the warning signs were there, foreshadowing the eruption, that was Ron’s jealousy streak. And frankly, Hermione had once enjoyed Ron’s brazen declaration of his affections. However, that was before they shared a kiss at the end of 6th year. Admittedly, Hermione had been vulnerable while mourning Dumbledore’s death. The funeral was a haze, and Ron had been so comforting. As they were walking around Black Lake, Ron had finally did it. He laid a small peck onto her eager lips, but she didn’t feel that spark, that passion within her to claim his lips as her own. Instead, she awkwardly hugged him and thanked him for being a great friend to her. Ever since, she had been trying to keep Ron’s affection at bay. Unfortunately, it had pushed him to leave the cabin angry at the world and disappointed.

Ron’s return had brought relief to Harry and Hermione. It had also allowed Hermione to believe that everything would be okay between the Golden Trio once again. Yet, she knew that she would one day have to have an open and very honest conversation with Ron about her existing strictly platonic feelings for him. Right now, however, was not the time. This very statement was something she would tell herself with each amorous hug Ron would try to give her or the small pecks on her cheeks. The war and its victory (that some days felt so far away) was priority. Not feelings.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a small shrug, “but we’ve also lost so many already. I doubt the holidays would have been a great occasion anyways.

“At least, we have destroyed some horcruxes,” Hermione added trying to lighten the mood.

“We’ve also been caught and tortured,” Harry paused trying to catch Hermione’s gaze, “especially ‘Mione. You have fucking ‘Mudblood’ scarred on your arm.”

Instinctively, Hermione looked down to make sure the spot was visible to her friends. She didn’t like talking about that experience. It haunted her dreams. That was part of why it surprised the Order’s adults in the meeting when she accepted the request to protect Draco. She remembered the gasps as she willingly volunteered, and Narcissa gave her an amusing look before graciously accepting the muggleborn’s aid.

“Let’s not forget that we lost Dobby,” He continued as tears welled in his eyes.

“Oi, mate,” Ron interjected, obviously annoyed, as he noticed that Harry was on the verge of tears, “this is war.”

“Can you be any more tactless, Ron,” Hermione stated, exasperated at Ron’s attitude, “We all know there’s a bloody war fucking going on, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that we have lost so many people that we cared about.”

Ron sighed and placed his hands up in defeat, “Geez, ‘Mione. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

“Maybe not,” the brave Gryffindor retorted, “but that didn’t stop you.”

This time it was Harry who sighed as Ron gawked at Hermione. Harry stood up as he cleared his throat, “We should be leaving. We’ve already stayed longer than expected, and we can meet again in a few days to finalize a plan of action.”

Hermione and Ron both nodded at Harry before standing up. Hermione hugged Harry tight. She hadn’t expected him to get emotional during the meeting. He had held up a stoic presence initially. He had even joked about taking the Dark Lord down swiftly, but to see him start to tear up saddened Hermione. She let him go but took a brief moment to truly appreciate his fierce green eyes and dark shaggy hair. It hid the lightning bolt shaped scar that had always made him stand out. Next, she gave the irritating Ron a hug. He held onto her tight and seemed to nuzzle her neck. Hermione was uneasy in his arms, but she tried to brush it off as her having dreams of Draco lately. He sighed in her ear and whispered a “sorry for earlier” into it.

“It’s okay,” she responded trying to hide how uncomfortable she was.

“No,” He sighed, even more heavily, as he looked at her face adoringly, “I shouldn’t have been a git.”

He leaned in to kiss her lips, but Hermione had been quick. She moved her face to the side, and his lips crashed onto her cheek. Ron awkwardly pulled back and let her go as his face turned red. Harry stood back amused at Ron’s embarrassment, and Hermione could see him fighting a fight of laughter.

“Well, we shall be off,” Harry finally managed to state despite still grinning, “Ron, mate. You okay?”

Harry looked over to his friend as he approached. Ron gave a weak smile and nod as Harry patted his friend’s shoulders a little to hard. Hermione walked with them over to the fireplace, and they all said one final goodbye. Ron was quick to step into the fireplace with floo powder in hand leaving Harry behind in a fit of laughter and tears.

“Hermione, that was brilliant,” Harry laughed as he clasped her shoulder.

“Harry,” she warned, sighing, as she gripped the bridge of her nose, “this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, I know,” He grinned as he let her go. He stepped into the fireplace still grinning before he threw the floo powder from his personal pouch. Green flames enveloped him as he called out his destinations and vanished from sight.

Hermione let out a loud sigh as she went back to the couch and sat on it with a loud thud. She raked her fingers through her freed curls from her bun as she heard a door creak open. She looked up to see Draco annoyed yet looking at her curiously.

“What, Malfoy?” She rolled her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Just curious to know what’s up with you and Weasel,” He responded with his signature arrogant smirk that Hermione was too familiar with.

She closed her eyes as she tried to find the right way to politely tell Draco to sod off, but she opened them a moment later and said, “Not tonight, Malfoy. I’m tired.”

Draco looked over at Hermione, and he had to admit that she did appear to be tired. Maybe he had been insensitive, he questioned to himself as he stepped out of the room. With the silence thick between them, he walked over to her before sitting with her. She sighed again as she stared at the ceiling of the cabin, not daring to look over at her roommate.

“Granger, you were right,” He stated breaking the silence. “Ron was being an arse for no reason.”

“You were listening?”

“It’s hard not to when you’ve been forced to sit in a room on a tiny cot,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Besides I’m not about to help the Dark Lord.”

Hermione let out a weak laugh, “That sort of would defeat the point of your mom faking your death.”

“She d-did what?” He stammered.

“Oh,” Hermione realizing her mistake and shyly reddened, “She didn’t tell you.”

“No!” He firmly exclaimed.

“The Dark Lord believes you’re dead,” Hermione mustered to say, “We haven’t used much magic here anyways, so it’s worked in you and your mother’s favor.”

Draco could say nothing else. His head was beginning to hurt, and it felt as if a weight had been put on his shoulders. Draco could remember fighting the robed witch that turned out to be his mother, but he didn’t die. The stun she had used on him did have a strong punch he remembered. He had been out for a few days, yet it alarmed him that he had appeared dead. Hermione glanced over to the horrified Draco, whose eyes were now closed. Guilt of what she had revealed was consuming her.

“Mal- Draco,” she began, “Narcissa loves you, and she was only trying to protect you. She told me a few days before she brought you here the threats you had received. She told me how the Dark Lord had threatened to kill her, then you, if you didn’t kill Dumbledore.”

“I didn’t,” he interjected.

“I know,” Hermione assured, “Narcissa informed us of the mission. Snape finished, and you were punished.”

  
“Punished,” Draco scoffed, “I was fucking tortured by my so-called aunt and Voldemort. My mother wasn’t even permitted to attend my wounds.”

Hermione was visibly disgusted as the words continued to flow out of Draco’s mouth, “Hermione, I hate this mark. I thought my father would be proud that I took it, and I thought I would love being a part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. I honestly thought being a Death Eater was an honor.”

Tears were welling in the corners of Draco eyes as his frustration and anguish continued to rise, “Yet, I’ve regretted every moment since this mark was branded on me. My own home was a prison. I was constantly in fight or flight mode. I had so much turmoil coursing through me. I knew what I was following was fucking wrong. I hate who I had become and what I had blindly followed up until I was asked to kill Dumbledore. I am not a murderer, and that’s what he was asking me to become.”

Draco paused for a moment to steady his breathe as he finished, “Mostly, I regret that I didn’t kill my aunt for harming you. I am a fucking coward for letting her harm you.”

Draco and Hermione’s eyes met as he finished his last statement. The sincerity and guilt were written all over the Slytherin Prince’s face. Hermione felt her breath hitch as realization of his words hit her like a tsunami. Draco was not the devilish prat she had always coined him to be. He was complex, but his redeeming qualities were so apparent to her in this moment. Hermione’s hand ached to reach out to him and comfort him, but the Gryffindor held back.

“I don’t hate you, Hermione,” He admitted keep his gaze fixed on her, “I may enjoy getting a rile out of you, but I don’t want to harm you or anyone. I let my father sway my actions for so long that when I finally wanted to not do something, it felt like it was too late. The stakes were too high.”

Hermione grimaced for a brief moment before giving Draco a smile nod. Draco jolted as he felt her hand clasp over his. It wasn’t the action that had taken him aback. It was the static-like shock that went through him when she touched him that did. She began to gently rub smooth circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and goosebumps formed on his arm from her simple action. He pulled away mostly alarmed by how his body was reacting to her. Yes. This is his supposed soulmate, but this is also the girl he had loathed since he met her on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. She drove him mad! She was a know-it-all bookworm, but she challenged him to be a better student at Hogwarts. Even now, he couldn’t help but to admit that she was so focused, loyal, and brilliant. Despite their silence and avoidance in the recent weeks, he had noted that she was meticulous in her studying and planning for the Order.

“Draco,” she spoke breaking the silence, and he had noticed how cold and lonely he felt without her holding his hand, “I don’t hate you either.”

“That’s a bit shocking,” he muttered looking away shamefully.

“Well, it’s the truth,” Hermione stated as she grasped him arm gaining his attention again.

Draco stared at her face. The same face he once told a room full of Slytherins that he had found it nauseating. Hermione no longer looked like the 11-year-old girl that he had met on the Hogwarts express so long ago. The girl, whose teeth had been too big for her mouth or her hair, being bushy and untamed. She had always had an air of arrogance that gave Draco’s a run for his money. The woman now had grown into her teeth. Maybe it had been magic or some muggle invention? Draco wasn’t sure. But he knew her teeth were perfect now. He noticed them every time she smiled. Her face held no signs of the baby fat that once adorned it so long ago. Her curls had been tamed and were now beautiful ringlets that bounced when she walked. The longer the Slytherin gazed at her the stronger he felt the urge to lean into her. Her rosy nude lips were begging him to touch them just once. Hermione’s normally honeyed eyes appeared to have darkened and were burning him with desire.

“One kiss won’t change anything,” Draco thought to himself as he felt his body lean into her.

Hermione responded by leaning in closer to him. Something that would’ve surprised him if he had not been so fixated on her perfect, kissable lips. He only noticed how close he was to her when he noticed that her breathe tickled his face. His free hand went up to caress her face, and she smiled at his touch.

“M-may I kiss you?” He hesitated as he searched her face, but he stopped when she nodded.

He immediately pulled her face towards his, and his lips crashed onto hers in an unexpectedly tender kiss. Electricity danced throughout him as the kiss deepened. Why had he waited to kiss her? Why didn’t he try this the first time he had noticed that she was beautiful at the Yule ball? Why did this feel right? The chaos in his mind melted away as Hermione granted him entrance into her mouth. Their tongues danced eloquently, and the world around them was nothing in that moment. One simple kiss had turned to many, and they only pulled away to catch their breaths. The heat was intensifying with each moment that passed. Draco had dropped his hand from her face as he allowed it to explore her womanly figure. The caresses were well received as Hermione smirked into another kiss and began to explore Draco’s body.

“What the fuck!” a familiar voice roared.

Draco halted his kisses as something primal within him triggered. He let go of Hermione as his talons revealed themselves. He scowled at the fireplace as a figured stepped through brilliant green flames. Draco couldn’t hear Hermione telling him to calm down. He couldn’t see the panic on her face as she noticed his talons. No. All he saw was the freckled face, redhead Weasel with a look of disgust plastered on his face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff for you guys to enjoy and some drama (muahahaha). I did change up Harry's characterization a bit. My partner wasn't happy with that, but it fits the narrative of the story. Please feel free to comment any suggestions you have for me! Thank you in advance!!


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